


The Candy Cane Murder

by thedemonkingawakes



Series: Let's Write Sherlock Collection [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 23:05:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2750441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedemonkingawakes/pseuds/thedemonkingawakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A holiday crime for Sherlock and John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Candy Cane Murder

“Come along John.” Sherlock said, wrapping his scarf around his neck.

“Sherlock,” John replied, not looking up from the paper. “there are two feet of snow outside. We’re not going on a case.” He took a sip of his tea and turned the page.

Sherlock bounded over to John’s chair excitedly and pressed a kiss to his lips. “John, there has been a murder.”

“The police will handle it Sherlock.” John looked up to meet his lover’s gaze.

“The police are clueless. They have no idea how this man died, which is why we have to go down there before they contaminate the crime scene.”

“Sherlock, it’s cold and we’re going to my parents’ house tomorrow. We are not going to a murder scene.”

“Fine. I’ll go on my own.” Sherlock stalked out the door, settling the deerstalker firmly over his curls as he walked down the steps.

With an exasperated sigh, John stood up and extinguished the fire. He pulled on his coat and hurried down the steps after Sherlock.

“John dear, where are you and Sherlock going?”

“We’re going to a crime scene, Mrs. Hudson.” John called as he rushed out the door.

Sherlock was just climbing into a cab as John left 221B Baker Street. John slid in next to him and Sherlock gave the driver the address of the crime scene.

“You’re drinking chamomile tea.”

“Brilliant.” John replied sarcastically. “I’m drinking tea.”

“You normally drink Earl Grey. Now, you could be drinking chamomile to help you sleep, but you wouldn’t drink it this early in the day if that were the case. The other common use is to calm anxiety, but what would you have to be anxious about?”

John sighed again, debating whether or not to ignore Sherlock. Eventually, he spoke. “Sherlock, I’m anxious about you meeting my family. I haven’t told my father that you’re my boyfriend. As far as he knows, you’re just my flatmate.”

“Your father is quintessential jock. He was proud when you joined the army and you’re worried he won’t approve of your homosexuality.”

John couldn’t help but smile slightly at Sherlock’s bluntness. “Yes, Sherlock.”

The cab pulled up at their destination and Sherlock climbed out. John followed him as he strode towards the murder scene. He took in the quaint house as they passed through the doorway. Sherlock grabbed his hand, pulling him through the small house to the back porch.

“Good. You’re here.” Lestrade said.

 “Where’s the body?” John asked.

Lestrade pointed to the yard. At the base of the porch steps, a man’s body lay covered in a fine dusting of snow. “The entry wound seems to be a small hole behind the victim’s left ear.”

Sherlock descended down the steps, waving away the forensics personal that were working on the body. He examined it for a minute, sniffing the wound and testing the victim’s skin.

“Doctor Watson, your opinion?”

John crouched down beside the body, looking at it. A thin line of blood down the side of the victim’s head and neck was the only indication of any wounds. John peered closer at the victim’s hands, noticing a sticky residue on the fingertips of his right hand. As he sat back on his heels, he glanced up at Sherlock, who nodded at him to go ahead.

“I’d have to do an autopsy to be sure, but it appears that this man was killed with a small blade. I suspect that whoever killed him drove the knife up from behind his ear into his brain.”

“Very close John.” Sherlock exclaimed. “He was killed by a stab wound, but the wound wasn’t caused by a knife. This man was killed with a candy cane.”

Lestrade looked at Sherlock for a moment, shocked, before he started laughing. When neither John nor Sherlock joined in, Lestrade frowned.

“Sherlock, you can’t be serious.”

Sherlock didn’t reply and Lestrade’s frown deepened. “Doctor Watson, you agree with him?”

“It does explain the residue around the entry wound and the faint minty smell.”

“But it’s a candy cane. How can you kill someone with it?”

“If you suck on them enough, candy canes develop a rather sharp point. C’mon Greg, you must have poked yourself in the tongue with one before.” John replied.

“Alright, then if we test the wound, we should find the killer’s DNA.” Anderson called from the porch.

“Anderson, do us all a favor and keep your mouth shut.” Lestrade called back. “Is he right though?” He asked, lowering his voice. “Would the wound have the killer’s DNA?”

Sherlock gave John a look; _Care to answer his idiotic questions?_

John pointed to the victim’s right hand. “See, there’s a sticky residue on the fingertips of his right hand. It was left there by a candy cane, which means the one he was stabbed with is almost certainly the same one he was eating.”

Lestrade sighed in frustration and ran a hand across his face. “Well Sherlock, do you know anything about the killer that you’d like to share with us?”

“You’re looking for a younger male. He’s tall, he smokes cheap cigarettes, and he has a cat. I would suggest looking for a former medical student, possibly with a history of mental illness.” Sherlock turned on his heel and strode out of the yard, his coat flapping behind him. “Come along John.”

“You’re still coming for dinner tonight, right? Mrs. Hudson makes a great Yorkshire Pudding.”

Lestrade nodded distractedly as John left, already running through a list of suspects in his head.

 

 


End file.
